By Spring has committed. The cherry blossoms along the waterfront are blooming and Portland is in its annual state of pink-tinted ecstasy. I took Miya to see them on Saturday — she is eleven months old and does not understand cherry blossoms but she understands beauty, I think, in the way babies understand beauty: instinctively, without needing to name it. She reached for the petals falling around her and I let her catch one and she put it in her mouth, because that is what babies do with everything, and I decided this was her first experience of hanami — cherry blossom viewing — and that it counted even if it involved eating the blossoms.
Fumiko called to tell me the cherry blossoms in Sacramento are blooming too. She walked to the park near her apartment to see them, the way she does every spring. Eighty-nine years old and still walking to the park. She told me that her mother, before the war, before the internment, used to take her to see the cherry blossoms in their neighborhood and that the sight of them — pink against blue sky — was one of the last things she remembered about life before Tule Lake. The cherry blossoms are not just flowers. They are a timeline. They are the measure of what was lost and what survived. Fumiko survived. The cherry blossoms survived. Some things persist.
I made a spring rice bowl with asparagus, snap peas, a soft egg, and a dressing of rice vinegar, soy sauce, and sesame oil. Everything green and bright and tasting of the season. The asparagus was from the farmers market, the first of the year, pencil-thin and snapping-fresh. I roasted it with a little sesame oil and it was perfect — sometimes the best cooking is the least cooking, the lightest touch, the willingness to let the ingredient be itself.
I got another rejection on the essay — from the second magazine. Another form letter, another "not right for us at this time." I am keeping a tally. Two rejections. Two attempts. The essay is not worse because two people said no. The essay is the same essay it was before anyone read it. I am trying to hold onto that truth the way Miya holds onto the coffee table — firmly, with both hands, knowing I might fall but standing anyway.
Brian planted tomato starts on the balcony. He does this every year. They always die because our balcony gets four hours of sun and tomatoes need eight. But he plants them and he hopes and there is something about Brian's persistent optimism about tomatoes that makes me believe, just slightly, in his persistent optimism about us.
The asparagus I used that day was so good it barely needed anything — pencil-thin, snapping-fresh, the first bundle of the year from the Saturday market — and it reminded me that the best cooking really is the least cooking. This crispy garlic parmesan asparagus is what I’ve been making alongside that rice bowl all spring: a high heat roast that crisps the tips, a hit of garlic, a shower of parmesan, and nothing more. It’s the kind of recipe that feels less like cooking and more like getting out of the way of something already beautiful, which felt exactly right for a week that was teaching me to do the same.
Crispy Garlic Parmesan Asparagus
Prep Time: 5 minutes | Cook Time: 12 minutes | Total Time: 17 minutes | Servings: 4
Ingredients
- 1 lb fresh asparagus, woody ends trimmed
- 2 tablespoons olive oil
- 4 cloves garlic, minced
- 1/3 cup freshly grated parmesan cheese
- 1/2 teaspoon kosher salt
- 1/4 teaspoon freshly ground black pepper
- 1/4 teaspoon red pepper flakes (optional)
- 1 teaspoon lemon zest (optional, for serving)
Instructions
- Preheat the oven. Preheat your oven to 425°F (220°C). Line a large rimmed baking sheet with parchment paper or foil.
- Prepare the asparagus. Snap or trim the woody ends from the asparagus spears. Pat them dry with a paper towel — moisture is the enemy of crispiness.
- Season. Arrange the asparagus in a single layer on the prepared baking sheet. Drizzle with olive oil and toss to coat evenly. Scatter the minced garlic over the top, then season with salt, pepper, and red pepper flakes if using.
- Add the parmesan. Sprinkle the grated parmesan evenly over the asparagus spears, concentrating it toward the tips where it will crisp best.
- Roast. Roast in the preheated oven for 10–13 minutes, until the asparagus is tender-crisp and the parmesan is golden and lacy at the edges. Thin spears will cook closer to 10 minutes; thicker spears may need the full 13.
- Serve immediately. Transfer to a serving platter and finish with lemon zest if desired. Serve at once — the crispiness is best right out of the oven.
Nutrition (per serving)
Calories: 110 | Protein: 6g | Fat: 8g | Carbs: 5g | Fiber: 2g | Sodium: 290mg